


Amaranth

by dawnstruck



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Pining, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 04:01:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6737431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnstruck/pseuds/dawnstruck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A flower that never fades.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amaranth

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something to get me over my hq slump. Hopefully, this will keep the inspiration coming.  
> First time writing these characters, so not quite sure on the voices yet.

The last of winter is still laced through the days, and in the morning it had made Akaashi huddle deeper into his coat, braced against the sharper winds that lurked around the concrete corners of the cities.

When he runs into Bokuto-san - surprisingly, unexpectedly, and almost seven years after his own graduation - it is just behind one of those corners.

Bokuto’s hair is weightened down by the light drizzle and his unzipped jacket keeps flapping in the wind, and in that manner he is still a child, a child that has to be reminded to take his umbrella along, to dress appropriately for the weather.

A child whose face lights up the moment he recognizes Akaashi, who excitedly explains that he lives just round here and won’t Akaashi just come up for a cup of something, he just bought groceries anyway, he’s got cookies and icecream, Akaashi likes chocolate chip, right?

It’s just like him to not even consider the possibility that maybe Akaashi has places to be. It’s just like Akaashi to follow him anyway.

 

Bokuto’s one-room apartment is a nice little thing, tidy and well-kept.

Moved in half a year ago, Bokuto says over his shoulder as he goes to stand by the kitchen counter in order to fix them some tea.

Akaashi delicately sits down in one of the two chairs, folding and refolding his damp coat in his lap, twisting his fingers underneath.

Bokuto had shrugged off his jacket the moment he stepped over the threshold and just thrown it over the back of an old armchair. Like this, Akaashi can view his broad back from behind, the way his shoulders flex as he reaches into one of the overhead cabinets to pull out two mismatched cups.

Akaashi bites his tongue but doesn’t look away when Bokuto skillfully slips a hair tie from his wrist and twists it around to pull his frizzy hair into a tiny ponytail, leaving the nape of his neck bare, except for some stray little curls.

So, Bokuto says thoughtfully, tapping his fingertips against the worn surface of the counter, You graduated yet?

Yes, Akaashi says with a politely little nod that he has perfected for nosy aunts and job interviews, I got my degree a couple of months ago.

Got a job yet?

Just temp work.

Bokuto gives a sage little nod, a wry little grin, a kind of I’ve been there, listen to your senpai, and he’s so full of it, Akaashi can’t help but chuckle.

What, Bokuto asks, crossing his arms and cocking an eyebrow in a challenging way. There’s an amused tilt to it, though, and Akaashi smiles more openly.

You haven’t really changed at all, have you? he asks, shaking his head a little.

A small breath escapes Bokuto, not even enough to qualify as laughter. He rolls his eyes up to the ceiling.

No, he admits at length, not quite as ruefully as a stranger might expect, Guess I haven’t.

And Akaashi was so in love with this boy, this boy who is still a year older than him, who sang horribly and preferably in duets with Kuroo-san, who inhaled junk food like a vacuum cleaner, who made defeated teams congratulate him for his amazing plays.

And now, years and years after cheery blossoms on graduation day and Akaashi telling himself that it was too late now, years and years of It’s doesn’t matter anyway, his stupid stupid high school crush slams back into him with a force that leaves him breathless.

 

The electric kettle clicks off and Bokuto turns away again, pouring water into the cups.

You like to leave it steep, right? Bokuto confirms because he still knows Akaashi too well, and so Akaashi primly stands up from his chair and sets his folded coat aside.

Yes, he says, stepping up behind Bokuto and the closeness of his voice has Bokuto pull himself up a little straighter, the dip of his spine outlined underneath his grey t-shirt.

What, he blinks, turning with his hip against the counter.

Bokuto-san, Akaashi says, looking him right in the eye.

Oh. Um, Bokuto’s gaze drops down to Akaashi’s lips but then quickly flickers back up again, Yes?

I haven’t changed either, Akaashi admits and kisses him.


End file.
